
Author 



Title 



Imprint 



18— 47372-3 OPO 



The 

King's Highway 

and 

The Pensauken Graveyard 




I, 



A Chapter in the Coloniil history of West 
New Jersey, by Dr. A. M. Stackhouse. 



i 



The King's Highway 



AND THE 



Fensauken Graveyard 



A CHAPTER IN THE 



Colonial History 



OF 



West New- Jersey 



BY 



Dr. A. M. Stackhouse. 









Printed by 

The Setfle Press 

Moorestown. N. J. 

1905 



To My Life Long 

Friend 

WILLIAM R. LIPPINCOTT 

This brochure 

The result of gathered fragments 

of tradition and local history 

is 

respectfully dedicated 






Zbc Iktna's IHiQbwa^ 



THE two articles set forth in the following pages appeared 
in print in our local newspapers shortly after they were written 
and were subsequently republished in The Burlington County 
Democrat, of Mount Holly. They seem to have attracted 
some little attention and I have been urged to publish them 
again in a less ephemeral form. 

The following letter printed as an introduction to the letter 
on "The King's Highway'; in the Moorestoivn Chronicle (issue 
of Feb. 11, 1897, ) explains the circumstances that called it 
forth: 

To the Editor of the Chronicle; 

The King's Highway in Chester Township. 

A number of young Friends in Moorestown and vicinity 
are taking a great interest in the local history of the neighbor- 
hood, and not long since information was sought in reference 
to the King's Highway in Chester Township. 

Knowing that Dr. A. M. Stackhouse, residing not far 
from Maple Shade, had in his library very valuable records of 
"ye olden time," I repaired to his residence one evening not 
long since, and the hours passed away uncounted as I pored 
over many historical reminiscenses; and the Doctor afterward 
prepared and kindly sent me the following very interesting art- 
icle, which I am anxious to preserve by giving it to the press. 

Wm. R. Lippincott. 

The following copy of a hand bill explains the occasion 
of the address on the old Pensauken Graveyard. 

An Out-of-Door Historical Meeting. 

An unusual interest was shown in the "Moorestown: Old 
and New" meeting last winter. THE RAMBLERS have de- 
cided to hold an open-air meeting devoted to the history of 
our early Friends, the Roberts, Matlack, and Hancock fam- 
ilies, on Seventh-day, Fifth Month 22d, 1897, at 3.30 P. M. 

Our Friend, Charles C. Haines, cordially invited the 
company to meet on his farm, where are situated many of the 
most interesting landmarks. 

Joseph W. Lippincott, Dr. Asa Matlack Stackhouse, and 



others will speak on interesting subjects. A tablet with a suitable 
inscription will be erected on the site of the old graveyard. 

Friends are requested to provide for a basket picnic, 
which will be enjoyed at the meeting, under the old chestnut 
trees. 

Carriages will meet the 2.30 train from Phila., at Maple 
Shade. 

WALTER J. BUZBY, 

President. 

Moorestown, N. J., Fifth mo. 7th, 1897. 

This meeting was held on the site of the old grave yard on 
the South bank of the Pensauken a short distance above 
Lenola. There was a large gathering, and besides the address- 
es mentioned above, others were made by Emmor Roberts 
of Moorestown and Wm. R. Lippincott of Fellowship, the 
latter beng an eloquent resume of the honorable trealment 
accorded by the State to the last remnant of the Indians of 
New Jersey. 



Maple Shade, N. J. 

December 29, 1896. 
Esteemed Friend: 

Thy visit last night and our conversation relative 
to "ye olden time", have revived pleasant memories of that 
' 'which we have heard and known and our fathers have told us' ' . 

I am glad to find that a love for the past and a desire to 
know more about our local history is growing among our 
people. 

Some years ago, thy uncle Clayton Lippincott prepared 
an article on our local highways which was published in one of 
our county papers. He had given considerable time and la* 
bor in gathering information, and his article gave, I presume, 
all that can be known at this day in reference to our roads. 

I have looked in vain among my papers for a copy of this 
article. I hope it will turn up somewhere. 

Among "The Acts and Laws made by the General Free 
Assembly during their session held at Burlington for the 
Province of West New Jersey from the one and Twentieth day 
of the ninth month called November, until the eight and 
twentieth day of the same month, Anno 1686" the following 
was enacted: 

"Be it also further enacted by Authority that there shall 
be a Highway surveyed and set forth between Burlington and 
Salem, the same to be begun at or before the First day of the 
Second Month next, and that twenty men in the whole shall 
be appointed for the said work, Ten thereof from Burlington 
and Ten from Salem." (Learning & Spicer.) 

This is the origin of the road known in our local 
history as the "King's Highway." It passed through Had- 
donfield, Ellisburg, and what was formerly known as Rod- 
mantown, now Mooiestown. " It probably crossed the 



8 

Rancocus near the park of Governor Franklin." (Mickle's 
Reminiscences. ) 

Tradition says that this road as well as most other high- 
ways in the early settlement of the country, followed old Indian 
trails. 

I can give no information relating to the road north of 
Moorestown. The King's Highway passed through the Main 
Street of Moorestown towards Haddonfield until it reached 
the foot of the hill opposite the farm house owned by Michael 
Flynn. Here it left the present highway, passing to the right 
in front of the small brick house belonging to Elwood Holl- 
ingshead. It passed to the north of the old Vansciver distillery 
and crossed the north branch of the Pensaukin near what is 
called the Cinnaminson bridge on the Fellowship and Palmyra 
road. The road v/ound round the base of the hill and skirted 
the woodland in the rear of where Joseph H. Matlack now 
lives. It soon strikes a little deeper into the woods. The 
route here was plainly recognizable in my boyhood days but is 
now almost obliterated by growing timber. The road now 
crosses a corner of my woodland, and here it is more clearly 
defined perhaps, than in any other part of the course in our 
neighborhood. 

In this small piece of woodland may still be seen traces 
of an old road, a tributary of the King's Highway which led 
to Pimsoaking, alias Esom, on Charles Haines' farm. Here 
we are on historic ground. On the site of Charles Haines' 
house once stood the house built and occupied by William 
Matlack, the progenitor of the Matlack family in America, to 
which nearly every old family in this section is allied. 

Near William Matlack' s house stood the house of his 
brother-in-law Timothy Hancock, and here meetings for wor- 
ship were held every other First Day, privilege having been 
granted by the Monthly Meeting of Burlington to this effect 
9th Month 9th, 1685. 0. S. This Meeting piobably antedat- 
ed that at Moorestown. Not far from William Matlack's 
house is an old grave yard, where our forefathers sleep. Here 



too at Pimsoaking, Tallaca, the Indian chief signed the con- 
tract with John Roberts, Timothy Hancock and William Mat- 
lack, whereby in consideration of "one match coat, one little 
runlet of rum and two bottles of rum' ' , he agreed to defend 
them in their rights from all other Indians. 

Along this road then traveled many of our forefathers to 
worship 

"In calm and cool and silence. Once again 
They find their old accustomed place among 
Their brethren, where, perchance, no human tongue 
Shall utter words; where never hymn is sung, 
Nor deep toned organ blown, nor censer swung, 
Nor dim light falling through the pictured pane !" 

Along this road too, they passed following the remains 
of their loved ones, who now sleep peacefully beneath the sod 
waiting for a glorious resurrection. Above them stand the 
gnarled and massive chestnut trees like giant sentinels to ward 
away evil. 

But we are loosing our trail. Crossing the woodland it 
extends westwardly across my field coming out into the 
Ch^ter Brick School House lane directly in front of the old 
frame house, formerly owned by Charles Buzby. It follows 
the lane thence to the Fellowship Turnpike. Let me stop for a 
breathing spell. This in olden times would have been considered 
a good place to stop too, for this old house was formerly a 
tavern, where man and beast could find entertainment. If we 
should go within and inquire for home brewed we could per- 
haps find good company, for in those days Friends liked 
their tipple. 

The school house lane here is on the old Evesham Road 
and was much traveled A short distance from the old tavern 
the main road to Philadelphia branched off from the King's 
Highway. It can be distinctly traced for nearly a mile. The 
old tavern corner was once a place of note, and bore the 
euphonious title of Farrowtown or Pharotown. 

Near here is the Matlack homestead, built by William 



10 

Matlack, grandson of the first William of that name, in 1752. 
It stands on land which for over two hundred years has never 
had an owner who was not a Matlack. 

Let us follow our trail again. The King's Highway fol- 
lows Asa Matlack' s lane and passed through his yard. Here 
we see the venerable homestead of a generation of Matlacks 
on one side, and Reuben Matlack' s old blacksmith shop on 
the other. Here were forged the quaint old thumb latches 
and other iron work of the old brick meeting house at Moores- 
town. In front of the shop is the old hickory tree, now alas, 
in a state of decay, that may have looked down one hundred 
and nineteen years ago one warm summer day on the British 
army retreating from Philadelphia. 

The trail follows the lane from this place to the old saw 
mill. Here one hundred years ago you might have heard the 
anvil chorus, for here Reuben Matlack hammered out the 
scythes, sickles'and other farming cutlery for a generation that 
knew not the self-binder. 

Here the road crosses the creek a few feet above the rus- 
tic, home-made bridge which now spans it. Some of the old 
piling are still to be seen. 

Let us stop again under this spreading buttonwood, while 
I tell you something about this creek. It is hear the boundary 
line between Burlington and Camden Counties. A short dis- 
tance above the bridge the county line does not follow the 
present channel, but follows the course of the old creek bed 
through the meadows to the iion bridge on the Moorestown 
and Haddonfield road. The arched bridge is entirely in Cam- 
den County. The stream was turned into its present channel 
more than a century ago, to accomodate the saw mill. Since 
writing the above, I have been informed that this is not the 
reason for the change to the channel. In olden times farmers 
were almost entirely dependent on the meadows along the creek 
for their supply of hay. The change was made to improve 
these meadows. The present Moorestovvn and Haddonfield 
road was laid out one hundred years ago. The stream has 



11 

as many names as a Western horse thief. It is, says Mickle, 
the Warantepecka of the Indians. In an old map of the 
country in Swedish times, it bears the name of Simcissing, 
a name often used in old deeds. In some old documents it 
is called Crapwell or Cropwell River. In some old deeds it 
is called Cole's Branch or "Brooke." The name Pensaukin 
which it now bears, is spelled some dozen different ways. 

Crossing the creek the old road passes to the south of 
the dwelling house of William T. Lippincott. This house now 
in excellent state of repair was in its day a pretentious mansion. 
It was built by Thomas Thome, the grandfather of the grand- 
father of the present owner. Passing on, the old highway 
intersected the Colestown Road at the top of the hill. Here 
within my own recollection, stood an old hip-roofed house, long 
since lorn away, which was built by John Cowperthwaite in 
the early part of the last century.* This John Cowperthwaite 
was a roan of some consequence in the colonial days. He 
owned fifteen hundred acres of land, of which a very large 
part was located along the King's Highway in Camden and 
Burlington Counties. 

One of his descendants built the brick house owned by 



'•This house was known all over the neighborhood as the" Corner house." 
The land on which it stood one? belonged to James Wilde who married 
Sarah, daughter of Samuel Cole, the immigrant. One tradition says the 
house was built by Wilde and that his son-in-law Jonathan Thomas kept 
tavern there. The j roperty subsequently passed into the possession of 
John Cowperthwa'te. There was an addition to the old house that bore 
marks of having been erected at a later date. Wilde may have built the 
old part and Cowperthwaite the addition. The story is told that when the 
British retreated from Philadelphia in 1778 the main army passed by this 
dwelling. The occupants according to the custom of the time had just 
finished the job of baking the week's supply of pies, cakes and bread. 
Great must have been the vexation of the thrifty housewife; for the British 
soldiers carried off and consumel the whole of it. 



12 

William Matlack, situated at the intersection of the Moores- 
town and Haddonfield road with the Fellowship and Palmyra 
road. It was built in 1772. * The name of Cowperthwaite has 
I believe, entirely disappeared in our section. There is some- 
thing like the irony of fate in the fact that the last to bear the 
name who lived on her ancestor's acres, is or was an inmate of 
the County Alms House. 

But again to our trail. Crossing 1he Colestown Road our 
highway in question runs nearly parallel with the present 
road. Following it we pass in front of the old Ccles' Church. 
The building is only a few feet away. I am tempted to stop 
and talk to you all about it, but life is short, so passing along 
by Gcd's Acre, where many of my ancestors and I presume 
thine are sleeping, we proceed onward, keeping to the right 
of the house lately cwned by Charles Coles, still en passing 
the old red house of the Cooper estate also on the right. Near 
David Burroughs' house not frr from Eilisburg we cress the 
present road, and hear we rest. 

Not far from the old highway in the woodland where the 
trail is yet plainly vls ; ble, there stood in my boyhood days a 
gigantic chestnut tree that towered far above the surround- 
ing trees. This tree is no longer standing but the old monarch 
of the forest is a pleasing memory. Under its spreading bran- 
ches I take my stand and in my mind's eye see a wonderful 



''" This house was built by Thomas Cowpeithwaite. The date above given 
is incorrect as I have since learned. We know that it was built in the yc.i 
that Job, son of Thomas was born, the exact date of which is not knowr. . 
Job's wife was born in 1754. Supposing that his age was near that of 
his wife's the house was probably built somewhere between 1750 and 1754. 
The house built in 1772 is a similar brick structure standing near the cretk 
something over one half mile from the first mentioned house and nearly 
opposite the dwelling of Charles C. Haines. In repairing it a few years 
ago a stone was discovered bearing the inscription H. C. 1772. It war 
built by or for Hugh Cowperthwaite son of the above Thomas. 



13 



panorama. 

I see three Indians approaching and as they come near I 
recognize Tallaca, the Indian chief and his two friends. He is 
'wearing the match coat outside and his friends are helping him 
wear the two bottles of mm inside. It does not add to his 
dignity. The curse of the white man's fire water is upon him 
and from its bondage he is never more to be free in this life. 
Then follow more Indians, singly and in companies, always 
going, never returning, and the home that on.;e knew them 
knows them no more. A feeling of sadness comes over me 
which is of short duration however as I become interested in 
watching a party of men and women coming down the road. 
As they approach I observe they are a party of young 
Friends. As they pass me, a demure maiden who is one of 
the party stops opposite me and dismounting from the horse 
proceeds to examine her saddle girth. The woods ring with 
laughter as the cheerful company pass on not noticing the 
demure maiden left behind. One young man of the company 
however, misses her and quickly returns. I shall not tell 
you what I heard them say, but I saw the blushes mount in 
two pairs of cheeks and Elizabeth Haddon became Elizabeth 
Estaugh because of this pesky saddle girth. 

I do not wait long for another passerby, for along comes 
a stout, portly, good natured looking man clad in the vestments 
of Fox. He is no doubt going to meeting at Burlington. Him 
too I know. 

"Gentlest of skippers, rare sea saint." * 

He passes on and shortly another man comes into view 
a very curious looking man too at a distance. As he approaches 
I see that he is a Friend. But bless me: what a guy! Did you 
ever see such clothes? His broad brimmed hatthe natural color 



Thomas Chalk ley. 



14 

of the fur, and coat and breeches that seem to fit all right, — 
they must do that, for the owner is a tailor — but the color — 
just the natural color of the wool! Amusement at once gives 
away to reverence however as you look upon this traveler's 
face for it is aglow with the light of Him who bears the sins of 
the whole world. You could almost fancy you see the nimbus 
around the big fur hat of the uncanonizad saint. He has 
walked all the way from Rancocus and is going to Haddon- 
field meeting. His name is John Woolman. The world is better 
because he lived in it. 

Again as I look beyond the point where the swamp map- 
les throw their limbs tinged with fire and flame across the 
road, I see two men clothed in a garb that shows them to 
be strangers. They talk together in a language I do not under- 
stand. They examine eagerly the woodland as they pass. 
Every bush, tree and herb is scanned. Them too I know — 
Peter Kalm, Professor in the University of Abo and his ser- 
vant Lars Yungsiream gardener, from far away Sweden. They 
too pass by and are gone. 

Another company comes down the road on horseback. 
They are gentlemen, men of quality, as their dress and demeanor 
testify. One of them grave and dignified se^ms to be the 
chief. lass on friend: New Jersey has no further use for her 
last Loyalist Governor, William Franklin, unworthy son of a 
noble sire. 

It is Quaiterly Meeting day at Haddonfield. Along come 
the Friends, all sorts and conditions ; some en foot, some on 
horseback, some in vehicles, all drab coated and sedate — 
Haines, Matkcks, Lippincotts, Bortons, Stokes, Robeits, &c, 
&c. We are all represented there. 

Here comes however a compaiy oc a totally different 
character. They are troopers evidently, but certainly not 
soldierly, like troops of the line. With them go loads of hay 
and corn. They are driving sheep, cattle and horses. Every 
man save the leader is loaded down with plunder. Some 
Tory Churchman has had tosuifer and some non-resisting 



15 

Friend too, for this is a foraging party of the Continental 
Army returning with their spoil. Their leader is Timothy 
Matlack, Colonel, Secretary of the Supreme Executive Coun- 
cil of Pennsylvania, Free Quaker and chronic office holder ; 
cordially disliked by Friends and cordially hated by Tories. 

It is a warm summer day. The fierce sun pours down 
his fiery rays on field and forest. I have been spending hours 
since early morning roaming through the woodland, looking 
once more for that famous tree which Campanius, the learned 
Swede says, grows at Simcissing. He calls it the fish tree. 
It is hard like box weed and smells like raw fish ; it cannot be 
split but if a fire be kindled around it with some other kind of 
wood it melts away. Wearied with my fruitless search I seek 
the welcome shade of the old chestnut. Not a leaf stirring, 
not a bird singing, all is still in the intense heat. 

As I recline there, resting after my long tramp, musing 
on the old times and offering a resolution that old Campanius 
be declared a fraud of the first water I am suddenly aroused 
by the noise of crackling twigs. Jumping to my feet I see the 
whole forest alive with red coated troopers crashing through 
the under brush. Along they come, the fields, woods and 
road full. To them succeed other companies in marching 
array, horse, foot and artillery, baggage wagons and camp 
followers, regiment after regiment, brigade after brigade, scar- 
let and gold: the British Army yielding to manifest destiny 
have evacuated Philadelphia for ever and are seeking the safer 
shelter of New York. I see in the ranks Sir. Henry Clinton 
coo), cautious and collected: and he needs to be for he is 
marching his army through a country that furnishes him but 
few friends. Here passes the inflexible Earl Cornwallis and 
I see a shade of annoyance on his face and I fancy that this 
retreat is not to his liking. With him goes Lieut. Col. 
Monkton, brave and knightly soldier. The spirit of prophecy 
comes over me and looking down the future, I see thee noble 
Earl in a position much less to thy liking, hemmed in at York- 
town by the victorious allied army. And thou too, chivalrous 



16 

Monkton, little knowest thou that in ten days thy grave shall 
be dug in the sands of Monmouth. Hours pass and still they 
come in companies and the Hessians with Knyphausen bring 
up the rear. Aimable and gentle in deportment is this old 
Alsatian soldier, and so our Friends found him as they ap- 
plied to him in camp that night to have their horses and cattle 
returned to them. 

Presently along come a dozen dragoons or so, hot, tired 
and dusty, their horses bathed in sweat. I know you too, you 
rascals ! You have just been chasing my great grandmother in- 
to the Deer Park, but her colt was too fleet for you. You rob- 
bed her father, however, for I see his chickens hanging to your 
saddle-bows. Pass on rogues ! You may get your deserts at 
Monmouth Courthouse. 

And with this, enough of the dream and the dreamer. 
Thine truly, 

A. M. Stackhouse. 



pensaufctn (5rave$ar£> 



I HAVE been requested to make an address hereto day and 
have been given a roving commission so far as concerns 
the subject, with the single proviso that it must refer 
to this historic place and neighborhood. 

There is a rare charm in this locality to all who love the 
Past and its associations, especially to those of us whose an- 
cestors sleep in yonder graveyard, and still more especially to 
those of us who are lineal descendants of those who once trod 
this soil, looked out over the same green meadows and swell- 
ing upland, and who made history here two hundred years 
ago. Where shall I begin ? What shall I say? Our records 
and traditions have given us a valuable mass of material relat- 
ing to this locality : too much in fact, for me to find time to 
tell all on an occasion like this, and brief as we may try to 
make it we must start our story three thousand miles away. 

One day, two hundred and twenty years ago this spring 
a scene of activity and bustle might have been noticed on 
board of a ship lying in the Thames. The anchor had been 
weighed, the sails were being spread, the last communication 
was had with the shore, and the good ship Kent, Gregory 
Mario w, Captain, started on a long voyage to the New World. 
On board were two hundred and thirty passengers, mostly 
Friends, who were leaving behind them comforts and old asso- 
ciations, braving the perils of the deep to find a refuge in the 
forests of the New World from the ecclesiastical tyranny of 
the Old. 

It is said that while the Kent still lay in the stream, King 
Charles the Second, the most worthless of the worthless race 
of Stuart, while taking the air in his pleasure barge, came 
along side and asked if the passengers were Quakers and gave 
them his royal blessing. At that time there were scarcely 
room in the gaols of England to hold the Quakers whom he 



20 

had placed there. King Charles' character has been well de- 
scribed in the famous epigram of Rochester : 

"Here lies our soverign Lord, the King, 
Whose word, no man relies on. 
Who never said a foolish thing 
And never did a wise one." 

His blessing to the emigrants and his persecution of the 
Friends peculiarly illustrates the truth of Rochester's verses. 

After a long and tedious voyage, the Kent sailed up the 
Delaware and dropped anchor at the mouth of Raccoon Creek 
where the passengers disembarked. Among these passengers 
were some of the Commissioners sent out by the Proprietary 
Government, and also an athletic, bright-eyed man of thirty 
years of age from Cropwell Bishop in Nottinghamshire near 
the famous Sherwood Forest immortalized in English verse 
and story as the haunt of Robin Hcod and his merry men. 
His name was William Mat lack, and he is very much in evi- 
dence here to-day. At the place of disembarkation the Com- 
missioners taking William Matlack with them, ascended the 
Delaware in a small boat to Chygoe's Island, now Bnrlington. 
As they approached the shore William Matlack who was pro- 
bably seated in the bow of the beat, was heard to say, 'I'll be 
first, ' and suiting the action to his words sprang ashore : be- 
ing the first English white man to set foot on the ground 
where the city of Burlington now stands. Tiadition says, he 
proceeded to show his prowess by cutting down a tree — not 
the last by any means, as we shall see in the sequel. He was 
a carpenter by trade, and helped to bu;ld the first two houses 
in Burlington and Thomas Olive's corn mill ; the first in West 
Jersey. 

Thomas Olive was one of the Commissioners, and Will- 
iam Matlack was his servant. He could not write his own 
name, but in this respect he had plenty of company. It did 
not matter much however, as in those days the axe was might- 
ier than the pen. William knew how to use an axe and he did 
use it. We will leave him for awhile and eo down to the wharf 



21 

and look for another ship to come up stream. 

We wait until 1681. Then comes the 'Paradise,' and 
Captain Evele commands her. On board were Timothy Han- 
cock from Brailes in Warwickshire, accompanied by his sister 
Mary aged sixteen years. They were not quite so poor as 
William Matlack, as they had sufficient money to pay their 
passage. Mary soon found a home in the family of Daniel 
Wills. Here perhaps William first saw her. She was no 
doubt a comely damsel and found favor in his sight and one 
day when they were alone he asked her a very pointed ques- 
tion and Mary said 'Yes.' The result was they 'passed meet- 
ing' I suppose, and one day in 1682 the athletic young man 
from Nottingham and the Warwick maiden stood up in meet- 
ing, and he took her hand, and she took his hand, and they 
said some words out loud and Mary Hancock vanishes from 
history and Mary Matlack takes her place. 

Where they lived for the next two years is a matter of 
conjecture ; but we find in the spring of 1684 that Timothy 
Hancock bought of Thomas Olive one hundred acres of land 
being the tract on which this old graveyard is located. A few 
months later William Matlack bought one hundred acres ad- 
joining it on the southeast, the consideration therefor being 
'four years' service and £3 current country pay.' In 1687 he 
bought of Joshua Humphreys, alias Powell, one hundred acres 
more adjoining his first purchase, paying therefor £12. In 
1695 he bought Timothy Hancock's tract, and thus became 
possessor of three hundred acres of land, extending from the 
North to the South Branch of Pensaukin Creek. Land was 
plenty then. Surveyors in those days wore silk stockings, it 
is said and avoided the swamps and briars. I suspect that 
some of their work was done on horseback, at any rate they 
were not very accurate. They were careful to give enough 
land however, and so this three hundred acre tract was nearer 
four hundred acres than three. 

Here, on the site of Charles Haines' house, William 
Matlack built his modest residence and Timothy Hancock 



22 

built his, 'some short distance on a west course' therefrom. 

I cannot find any account in the old records of Mary 
Matlack's wedding presents. I can scarcely believe that she 
received any banquet lamps, or silver ice pitchers, or pickle 
forks, or anything of that nature. In fact I have an idea that 
presents were entirely omitted. But William and Mary had 
some things to start married life with of infinitely more impor- 
tance, and these were the indomitable energy and untiring per- 
severance which they had brought with them across the sea. 
These were their best and most useful gifts. 

So they started life here hand in hand. William Matlack 
rolled up his sleeves and began vigorously to push away the 
forest from his door and at the same time started to make 
stumps. Timothy Hancock was doing the same thing. John 
Roberts was pushing away the forest too, over yonder. Soon 
there were more at work. The Stiles' began pushing; down 
the creek the Lippincotts were pushing ; the Rudderows ; the 
Burroughs ; the Coles ; the Cowperthwaites ; the Thornes ; 
the Warringtons — were all hard at it working like beavers. 
This business flourished among them and their successors until 
the forest was nearly all pushed away. The sturnp-making in- 
dustry languishes here in these degenerate days ! Neither free 
silver, nor a high tariff v/ill ever revive it. 

I presume we can have no conception of the trials and 
privations of the early settlers. Just think of it ! No Ax- 
minster carpet in the parlor, no heater in the cellar, no nice 
ripe luscious tomatoes in winter, or at any other time for that 
matter. No bicycles and no bicycles paths. Money was 
scarce ; the necessities of life were scarce and costly, and the 
base of supplies was three thousand miles away. But their 
lot was cast here, and right nobly did they meet the issue. 
Time passed, and little by little came dearly purchased com- 
forts. Among the stumps the corn was planted; the pigs and 
chickens thrived, and in the struggle for existence daylight 
began to dawn. Still, stern necessity demanded the strictest 
economy. I can see the perplexed shade come over Mary's 



23 

thoughtful face as she studies how she can patch the seats of 
seven pairs of little breeches with only stuff enough for one. 
Burlington was a good ways off. There was no bargain count- 
er at Wanamaker's in those days. In fact, Philadelphia was'nt 
much of a city then. William Penn did not have to watch it 
so closely as he does now. He could stay indoors when it 
rained. 

And yet withal those were halcyon days. Many were the 
days of the years of his pilgrimage, but William Matlack 
never had a fertilizer drill that would not drill ; he never had 
a self-binder tobreak down in the harvest field ; he never 
tore his clothing crawling through a barbed wire fence ; he 
never saw a potato bug. 

The children came of course— John, George, Timothy, 
Mary, William, Joseph, Richard, Jane and Sarah. The girls ? 
Well the girls helped mother. They could mend and patch 
and cook and bake and maybe helped her in the garden. The 
boys weren't of much use there ; in fact I believe boys have 
never liked gardening since Adam retired from the business. 
They helped father though. They dropped the corn and 
brought in the fire wood and played havoc with father's car- 
penter tools when they had a chance. Of one thing you may 
be sure, they knew where every catfish hole was along the 
creek. I suppose they had pins in those days. In a boy's 
hands a pin becomes a bent pin and by evolution a bent pin 
becomes a fish hook. Ah ! Here they come now, sneaking 
up behind the trees from the creek, one, two, three, four, 

'Barefoot boys with checks of tan'. 
One has his shirt wrongside out, conclusive evidence that the 
whole party have been in swimming ! The weeds are growing 
as fast as the corn these warm days. Father will interview you 
when he gets home. 

But time passed and the wrinkles came on the faces of the 
parents and the gray hairs assumed a whiter hue with the 
changing years. The children scattered, John, George and 
Richard settled in the adjoining county of Gloucester. Timothy 



24 

drifted eventually to Philadelphia. He was the father of 
Colonel Timothy Matlack who figured in the councils of the 
nation in Revolutionary times. Joseph and Jane removed 
finally to Chester County, Pa., and William the Second as- 
cended the throne at Pensaukin. 

When the first William Matlack died, is, I believe, not 
definitely known. Mary died 11th month 20th, 1728. On 
the farm of Alexander Cooper near Glendale is an old grave- 
yard known as the Matlack Grave Yard. It is surrounded by 
a neat iron fence. Within the inclcsure is a stone bearing this 
inscription : 

'Within this enclosure lie the remains of 

WILLIAM and MARY MATLACK 

Who came to West Jersey from England 

William in 1677 and Mary (Hancock) 

in 1681 

The first of the name and the ancestors 

of the family in America. 

Here also lie the remains of 

RICHARD MATLACK 

(a son of Willian and Mary) and part of 

his children 

Also 

A number of the servants and slaves of 

the family.' 

That William Matlack was buried there is probable, but 

my grandfather states that Mary was decently interred at 

Moorestown. I have not as yet been able to reconcile these 

conflicting statements. 

William Matlack the second died in 1730. Some three 
years before his death tradition says that Thomas Chalkley 
held a meeting at Pensaukin in which the wonderful love of 
God was declared. It is more than probable it was at Will- 
iam Matlack' s home. 

By this time a considerable part of the three hundred 
acre tract had been sold off, but William the third inherited 



25 

the North-eastern end. He sold the part including the home- 
stead to his brother Jeremiah. It is probable that part of the 
present house was built by this Jeremiah. Jeremiah the first 
was succeeded by Jeremiah the second. He in turn by Jere- 
miah the third, and so for one hundred and fifty years the 
Matlack dynasty ruled here. But these details will prove as dry 
to you as the eighth chapter of First Chronicles. 

Another item of interest connected with this historic spot 
relates to the religious life of the infant community. The first 
Monthly Meeting ever held in Burlington was in the autumn of 
1678, and from the earliest book of records of this meeting 
we find that Friends at 'Pimsoaking alias Esom,' requested 
liberty to hold a meeting for worship at the dwelling house of 
Timothy Hancock one first day, and the next at John Kay's 
house. This request was granted the 9th of 9th month, 1685. 
The next minute relating to this matter was in 10th mo., 1686. 
It appears that some persons unknown had altered these 
meetings in some way, which Burlington Monthly Meeting did 
not approve and Newton Monthly Meeting was requested to 
take charge of them in the future. 

But there is still another matter in which we are all interest- 
ed and that is the old graveyard yonder, to which we have all 
made pilgrimage to-day. Would that we knew more about it! 
Would that in the twilight of our local history some worthy had 
dropped the axe occasionally and taken up the pen to record 
the story of this last meeting place of our forefathers 'that 
the generation to come might know them, even 'the children 
which should be born, who should arise and declare them 
to their children.' But alas ! The oracles of the past are as silent 
as the graves themselves. This work was left to a later genera- 
tion to attempt, when time and decay had made sad ravages, 
and only a page or two could be found when we so much 
want to see the whole volume. To the indefatigable labors 
and researches of my grandfather Asa Matlack we owe the 
great ergartoi whatever information I am able to offer to-day. 

The early settlers in time felt the necessity of providing 



26 

some suitable place of sepulture for their departed ones. So 
in 1692 we find that Timothy Hancock in consideration of ten 
shillings deeded unto "John Appleton, William Hullin, 
Thomas Wallis and John Walker — a plat of ground set out 
unto them for one half acre fronting upon Pensauquin Creek 
adjoining on one side upon the land of William Matlack and 
so seperated and set forth out of the land of the said Timothy 
Hancock — for a burying place for the people thereabout and 
all around adjoining whosoever that find it for their conven- 
ience and have desire to bury there — only reserving the privi- 
lege of burying in the said plot of ground for the said Timothy 
Hancock and his family forever as a neighbor hereunto adjoin- 
ing and no other wayes." The document is dated 9th mo., 
30, 1692, and appears to have been written by John Kay. 
One of the grantees (which, I have not yet learned) lived I 
am told on the plantation on the opposite side of the creek 
from the graveyard. This o'd burying place is therefore one 
of the oldest, if not the oldest in Chester Township. 

There formerly lived in Chester Township a man named 
Thomas Land. He was born in 1730, near Thomas Wallis' 
place near the mouth of the Pensaukin. He lived to a great 
age and was perhaps one of the eldest men in this section at 
the time of his death which occurred in 1822. In 1818 Asa 
Matlack interviewed him in reference to matters of local anti- 
quity. He stated that he remembered in his esrly days see- 
ing corpses brought past his father's place on their way to the 
graveyard on Jeremiah Matlack' s plantation. On being told 
that there was no fence around the graveyard he said that 
there had been, and that a collection of money had been made 
in the neighborhood to repair it, which was done with red ce- 
dar posts and white cedar boards, but hinges had never been 
put on the gates. His paients he said, were buried there and 
he had paid Jeremiah Matlack a small sum of money to keep 
up the graves. 

Tradition says that many funerals came up the creek on 
boats. Thomas Land's testimony corroborates this. There 



27 
was no doubt a wharf on or near the graveyard property. 
This is evidence also that the creek was in the early settlement 
of the country a much more important waterway than it is now. 
On 9 mo., 14, 1771, Ephraim Stiles fson of Robert! and 
Sarah ) who lived on the Stiles' tract just below us, committed 
suicide by hanging himself in his barn. Application was, 
made to Kendall Coles for the privilege of burial at Coles 
Churchyard. The privilege was granted, but the sexton Job 
Coles declined to permit it presumably because it was conse- 
crated ground. Application was made then for the privilege 
of burial in the graveyard on John Rudderow's plantation near 
the floodgates on the south branch of the Pensaukin Creek. 
This request was similarly refused. Jeremiah Matlack was 
then applied to and permission being granted the corpse was 
decently interred there "being the last corpse of a white Per- 
son ever put in said place." 

From the papers of the late James S. Lippincott I learn 
that the remains of the last slave in Chester Township was 
buried in this graveyard. 

From Asa Matlack' s notes, I copy the following: 
"I felt a desire this morning the eight of the 8 mo. 1824 
and first of the week to walk over to the said half acre of 
Ground and see what aspect it now bears. Some years ago 
when gathering chestnuts I noticed the Place and remembered 
then a few very small chestnut trees growing on the spot. 
When I came on the said Ground I counted thereon seven 
Chestnut Trees, 1 hickory and several small locust 'suckers' 
growing up. Two horses were feeding on the grass among 
them. I soon discovered a stone which I have no doubt for- 
merly stood at the head of a grave, but it now lay flat upon 
the Ground and broken into two pieces. On one of the said 
pieces which upon examination I take to be slate, was the 
following inscription. 

WHO ARE THOU ART : THAT 

PASSETH BY : LOOK ON THIS 

PLACE : SEE HOW WE LIE 



28 

AND FOR THY SOLE 

BE SURE CARE TAKE 

FOR WHEN DETH COMS 

TWILL BE TOO LATE : 

I then turned over the said piece of stone whereon was 

inscribed as follows : 

FOR 

THE MEMORY 

OF THOMAS 

WALLIS WHO DIED 

*— IVLY THE 22ND 

AGED 049TH 

YEARS 

1705 

There is now standing another stone which I take to be 

the one placed at the foot of Thomas Wallis' grave being of the 

same kind of stone mentioned : the following cut thereon : 

T W 

1705 

After I had read over these inscriptions taken from said 

stone which I suppose was brought from Philadelphia here, I 

took notice of a pebble stone with the following letters and 

figures cut thereon : 

ExM 
1705 
Near one of the said locust bushes stood a large pebble 
stone whereon was marked 

ExC 
1713 
If the Reader hereof should ever feel the like inclination 
with me of paying a visit to this place in his own person per- 
haps he or she may then think as I do now, if it were not for 



* July. 



29 

the four mentioned Grave Stones who could have thought this 
piece of Ground had been consecrated with the bodies of our 
Fathers. I own, I was seriously impressed with the reading of 
the first lines mentioned, together with a reflection like this — 
'See how we lie'. 

The tombstone inscribed 'E. C is supposed to have 
marked the last resting place of Enoch Core, who married in 
1705 Sarah, daughter of John and Sarah Roberts. 

In 1832 the old Matlack homestead passed out of the 
family into the hands of a stranger who knew not our fathers. 
In 1833 he built a spring house and it is said gathered what 
tombstones he could find and used them for building purposes. 
The tombstone marked E. C. was still here at a later date how- 
ever. 

At St. Mary's Church Yard at Colestown the record 
shows over twelve hundred burials from 1766 to 1829 inclusive 
There were in all probabilities comparatively few Friends 
among them and yet not more than four per cent of that num- 
ber have any memorial whatever. Our Pensaukin Graveyard 
however, was probably most used by Friends, especially in 
the earliest times of the Colony, and when their well-known 
views relative to the matter are taken into consideration we 
can scarcely escape the conclusion that there were never many 
tombstones here. Be this as it may ; there appears to be 
none left. The old white pony might still find some grazing 
here, but Old Mortality would find no inscriptions to deepen 
with his chisel. 

But though there be no memorial stones left, the dead 
are lying all around us here. Here sleeps Samuel Coles the se- 
cond of the name, progenitor of the Coles' family. Here in 
1695 was buried John Roberts, the ancestor of the Roberts' 
family, so many of whom are present to-day. 

"Fully ripe like the ear of the Reaper 
He met the pale messenger's word ; 
Oh ! sweet is the sleep of the sleeper 
That rests in the name of the Lord." 



30 

Here lie the little ones mouldering in the dust, forgotten 
here, but "in heaven their angels do always behold the face of 
their Father ; ' ' here lie young men and maidens ; their names 
lost here, but maybe exchanged for ' 'the new name written on 
the stone ;" here lie the fathers and mothers of our Quaker 
Israel, mute and motionless. With folded hands, sign that 
labor is done, they too lay down to pleasant dreams, 
"beneath the low green tent 
Whose curtain never outward swings!" 

They have learned the fuller and diviner meaning of "I 
am the resurrection and the lire." 

I suppose we have all this day paid our respects to that 
giant chestnut tree yonder. It measures 27 feet around at the 
surface of the ground and 16 feet, five feet above the surface. 
How it would have delighted the heart of the genial Autocrat 
of the Breakfast Table to make its acquaintance. 

This old fellow, wrinkled, gnarled and weather beaten 
isn't a beauty. Old people seldom are they say. But it has 
found a place in our Heavenly Father's economy and is good 
and kind and faithful. Under its roots the tortoise has found 
a hibernating place and the harmless ophidian a safe shelter. 
In its bosom the raccoons have made their homes and colonies 
of bees have founded commonwealths in its decayed branches. 
The squirrel has found food and shelter here and generations 
of birds of the air have welcomed the rising sun with melody 
from among its green leaves. But above all for two centuries 
perhaps it has kept watch and ward over the remains of our 
forefathers peacefully resting here. The cold frost comes 
and it tears off its garments strewing them tenderly over its 
charge and faces the bleak winds naked yet defiant. The 
warm spring days come as now and its new spring coat is 
spread out to temper the glare of the sun. It stands there in its 
quiet regal dignity; the lesser forest trees behind it like King 
Canute's courtiers, while the emerald waves soon to change to 
the heavenlier hue of golden harvest are breaking at its feet. 

Can you wonder then, in view of all the old associations 



31 

that cluster around this locality that we love it ? Our young 
boys and old boys too, have explored every nook and corner 
of it. Down yonder in the meadow the pink and white al- 
thaeas grow, protected from violation by water and marsh. 
We boys have braved the danger of morass and innumerable 
slimy and creepy inhabitants thereof to gather them and after 
all to find them become like Dead Sea fruit in our hands. There 
too grows, though sparingly, the brilliant red spikes of lobelia 
cardinalis, coy and inaccessible as althsea — sure to be found 
when we had our best clothes on. Up the creek near Charles 
Haines' line is a noble tulip poplar. The air is redolent with 
perfume in leafy June when this monarch dresses up for state 
occasions. It too is shy and the flowers are away up out of 
reach. Why is it the things we want so much are so hard to 
get ? Watermelons grew upon that light piece of soil. They 
weren't so hard to get, to be sure , but we are not in the con- 
fessional to-day. There is a catfish hole back yonder that we 
wot of. We will not divulge its locality. Sometimes we 
catch a fish there, oftener the net results are two nibbles and 
one snag, but as we lazily watch the cork or the fragrant blue 
smoke curling upwards from the ashes of the immolated Cuban 
maid assuming fantastic shapes, we see visions and dream 
dreams of the historic past. What care we then for the title 
papers of our genial host, we own it all for the nonce, meadow 
and upland, sky, land, and water. "The lines are fallen un- 
to me in pleasant places, yea I have a goodly heritage." 
But I must close, I am tiring you 

' 'and my visions flit 
Less palpably before me." 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



014 206 838 2 



